


dal segno

by liangwonu



Series: ripresa [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death (mentioned only), Non-Linear Narrative, being in love without directly acknowledging it, familiarity with pacific rim not required, none of the svts don't worry, some tender moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liangwonu/pseuds/liangwonu
Summary: That is to say, they're bonded for life. It was a pact signed in blood the moment they matched each other on that first blow in the combat room, the sound of wood against wood ear-splitting and absolute. He's known since he looked Mingyu in the eyes over the staff in his hands and something like electricity zipped down his spine.I will go wherever you go, to the ends of the universe and back.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Series: ripresa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139909
Comments: 27
Kudos: 74





	dal segno

**Author's Note:**

> A crash course in PacRim for those unfamiliar: humanity builds giant robots called jaegers to fight kaijus that come from an interdimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific. Jaegers are housed in Shatterdomes organised by the Pan Pacific Defense Corps in various cities. Two or more pilots operate a jaeger through a mental connection known as the Drift (basically sharing minds).
> 
> I haven't stuck very closely to PacRim canon or the film itself so that's pretty much all you need to know :>

The strange thing about the mind is that it never quite does what you want it to do. You can move each part of your body as you please, as long as it is made of voluntary muscle, but the mind sometimes struggles to keep a hold of itself. Inappropriate thoughts, intrusive ones, the resurfacing of unwanted memories, latching on like a snake bite and refusing to let you go.

Wonwoo had never been a stranger to spacing out back in school. He would look out of the window, chase one stray thought and all of a sudden, he'd miss a solid five minutes of the lesson. It was easy to do so back when his imagination was still as limitless as he wanted it to be. But once he snapped back to attention, he could never make himself drop it again.

He wishes that he could. If only it were that easy to just cast it away like a stone in a pond, to wander off and come back to his body whenever he needed to.

The conference room is stuffy, and Wonwoo's lower back is beginning to ache. He's been sitting with perfect posture for the better part of two hours now, and there's nothing more he wants to do than let his shoulders drop and his spine curve. Seungkwan would scold him immediately, he knows. Mingyu would too, though he's guilty of the same. The only difference between them is that Wonwoo simply has bad habits, whereas Mingyu still subconsciously tries to make himself seem smaller.

By now, Wonwoo has run out of body parts to focus on in an attempt to direct his attention elsewhere. From his feet, enclosed in shiny black dress shoes, to the itch at the back of his neck under his stiff collar. He glances to his left, sees Mingyu's hands balled into fists atop his thighs. The aftermath of today's memorial will be particularly vicious, he's calling it now.

He doesn't look at Mingyu's face, but he doesn't need to. His expression will be carefully neutral, as they've been taught, though there are some things he cannot control. The press of his lips into a thin line, a slight furrowing of his brow whenever it becomes too much to push it all down like trying to hold a buoy underwater. Wonwoo's hands are obedient and stay folded in his lap, no matter how much he wishes he could reach out and offer Mingyu that small comfort.

Because this is a televised event, nationally broadcasted. Because they are rangers. Because they are strength and courage and everything this country needs to stay hopeful in the face of the end of the world.

No matter how fragile and afraid and human they are.

Up on the screens, the faces of Choi Beomgyu and Kang Taehyun smile down at them all. They were just rookies, you can tell by the ecstatic sparkle in their eyes, and perhaps that's why seeing them feels like being gutted and left to bleed out. They were alive two days ago, arms thrown around each other's shoulders and beaming in front of a shiny new jaeger named Eternity Blue. She sank along with them off the coast of Busan.

The news had been abuzz with talk of the costs of this war, politicians and analysts and economists all picking apart how much money goes into building a jaeger, how easily they fall despite their hefty price tags, whether it's time to start looking for an alternative. Very rarely did anyone speak of the loss of youth. It had made Chan so livid that he stormed out of the common area and skipped dinner to blow off steam in the Kwoon Room.

Beside Wonwoo, Mingyu has progressed to gripping tight handfuls of the fabric of his trousers. _Don't_ , he wants to say, to coax Mingyu's hands into relaxing their white-knuckled hold, _you woke up early this morning just to iron your uniform_. He stays silent and fixes his gaze upon his lap once more.

Whether it took a minute or another hour, Wonwoo can no longer tell, the PPDC official's speech comes to an end at last. Of their own volition, his hands come together in applause that rings hollow in his ears. The man's name is a blur in his memory, but his words were nothing new. Perfunctory mourning, what a shame it was that they died so young. But what does it matter? Beomgyu and Taehyun were not the first, they will not be the last, and no one will remember their names except those who have sworn to do so.

Marshal Yoon from the Busan Shatterdome rises from her seat. Wonwoo doesn't think he can take another second of this, on top of the fact that Mingyu is falling apart right next to him and there's virtually nothing he can do. Her speech is brief yet heartfelt, remembering the boys for their hard work during their short time in Busan. Choi Minki and Hwang Minhyun, pilots of Nocturne Echo, are awarded medals for taking down the particularly violent Category-III that killed them.

Even veteran rangers can't hide everything. When they stand side by side for the press shots, Wonwoo sees a heaviness upon their shoulders. A hand on an arm as they head back to their seats, heads leaning in close enough for a whisper that could be mistaken as an accident.

Their own Marshal Kim closes the memorial, and all the attendees file out of the conference room row by row. Minhyun and Minki are in a bit of a rush to get back to Busan, as are the rest of the rangers from their Shatterdome, but they still find time to give a few quiet words of encouragement.

While still under the public eye, they're careful to remain poised as they make their way to the van. Once inside and the door slides shut, all pretences fall away. Chan gets fired up in a bitter rant about the PPDC official's speech to Soonyoung, while Minkyung and Eunwoo lean against each other with teary eyes and interlocked hands. Jeonghan and Joshua fall asleep in the back, having worked through the night to help out with repairs on their jaeger. Their voices fade into background noise when Wonwoo looks at Mingyu. Distant and silent as the moon.

He has always taken it the hardest.

"What do you need, Mingyu-yah?" Wonwoo murmurs, the endearment slipping out without his explicit permission. He doesn't regret it.

"I want to be alone. Just for a little bit."

"Alright."

𝄋

Wonwoo arrives at Kodiak Island four hours later than the rest of the cadets thanks to a mix-up that had his family name written down as 'Jeong' instead of 'Jeon'. The Marshal in charge, whose name escapes him, is courteous enough to have him complete his introductory tour separately. For this, he's endlessly grateful because he hadn't slept a wink on the plane and the whole name fiasco had been stressful enough.

He triple-checks his assigned room number before reaching out to enter the passcode, but before he can even press a key, the door is flung open from the other side. If it weren't for Wonwoo's reflexes, he would've been hit right in the face. He meets eyes with his assumed roommate, a tall boy with hair as dark as his own and sun-kissed golden skin.

After a brief moment of nothing but staring at each other in mild shock, the boy blurts out, "Korean?"

At Wonwoo's tiny nod, his face splits into a wide grin that shows off a pair of prominent canine teeth.

"I'm Kim Mingyu, it's nice to meet you! I didn't see you earlier though- oh, you have a suitcase, I guess you just arrived. Looks like we're roommates, huh? I think you're too late for dinner, but if you're like me, you must be starving. Wait here, I know where the mess hall is. I'll get something for you!"

Completely nonplussed, Wonwoo can only blink as Mingyu rushes off down the hallway and disappears around the corner. He didn't even get a single word in. What an odd kid. Nice, Wonwoo supposes, but kind of loud. They might not get along.

He wheels his suitcase to the foot of the bed and sits, letting his feet drag against the floor. On the opposite side of the room, it looks like Mingyu has already made himself at home. Photos are stuck on the wall and there are more scattered atop the mattress as if he can't decide yet which ones to put up. Mingyu with his arm around a younger girl at a middle school graduation, a tiny fluffy white dog at the park, an ocean that stretches beyond the limits of its white border.

What this means to Wonwoo is that Mingyu isn't planning on leaving anytime soon, perhaps not until the very end. An unexpected kind of confidence. 

Wonwoo lets his head hit the pillow, and his world tilts until his vision is fixed upon the ceiling. It's a miracle how he managed to stay on his feet, let alone navigate himself to the dormitory wing. Should he stay awake for a bit longer, he muses, wait for Mingyu to get back? He's suddenly curious about the boy who's still brave enough to look at a photo of the ocean and think of a time before the kaiju turned beaches into battlefields.

If he tries hard enough, he might be able to hear it. The crash of waves breaking at the shoreline. Wonwoo's eyelids grow heavy, and he soon falls into a dreamless sleep.

Some time later, he wakes with an overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity, and it takes him a moment to remember that this is Kodiak, not Changwon. He rolls over to find Mingyu in bed, his breathing slow and even and punctuated with light snores. The wall is adorned with a few more photos.

He really had gone all the way down to the mess hall to get Wonwoo something to eat. On the desk on Wonwoo's side of the room sits a packaged sandwich, a small cup of diced fruit, and to his immense surprise, a carton of Binggrae banana milk. There's a note, too:

> For Wonwoo (I know you didn't tell me your name but I looked at the tag on your suitcase, promise I'm not a stalker >.< )
> 
> I guess you were more tired than hungry. I don't blame you ㅎㅎ There wasn't much left, I hope this is enough. Oh, and the banana milk is from me! Think of it as a welcome gift, to remind you of home :]
> 
> If you want, I'd like it if we could be friends. Roommates gotta stick together, right? You can call me hyung!
> 
> From, Mingyu

For the first time since he left home, Wonwoo smiles.

𝄋

Mingyu doesn't say another word for the rest of the ride back to Incheon. The first time it happened, they were just shy of a month of being full-fledged rangers, and they watched a Category-III knock down Diamond Edge like she was made of plastic instead of pure titanium. Joshua broke an arm and a leg, Jeonghan was in an induced coma for two weeks, and Mingyu had been almost inconsolable. No one had even died that day, but when Wonwoo tried to reason this to Mingyu, he'd only snapped back that they came too close. It wasn't until their next drift simulation that Wonwoo saw it through Mingyu's own eyes, and he understood.

There are things you can't hide in the Drift, for the mind never quite does what you want it to do. The more you want to stop thinking about something, the more prominent it becomes. Mingyu would've preferred to forget why they argued after visiting Joshua in the med bay, and so, naturally, it was the first memory that came to Wonwoo. Like a bubble rising to the surface to offer itself to him. Maybe deep down, Mingyu wanted him to know after all.

It takes a certain kind of courage to present one's inner thoughts like that. Not quite as an open book for perusal, more similar to flipping through a photo album at lightning speed. And that day, all Wonwoo saw, felt, heard, tasted, was fear.

"I should've known," he'd said as he pulled Mingyu into his arms, his resolve crashing down like the roof of a cave.

"How could you have known if I didn't tell you?" Mingyu had whispered to his shoulder.

As if being afraid is something to be ashamed of. As if it isn't a natural response to looking into the eyes of hell and knowing that there is no escape, no turning away.

When hearing news of another pilot's death, two thoughts often cross a ranger's mind. One: thank God it wasn't me. Two: next time, it could be me. First comes the guilt, like being hit by a semitrailer going a hundred miles an hour, then the helplessness hot on its heels. Ever since the beginning- no, even before that. Since Kodiak, the fear had always weighed down on Mingyu's shoulders the worst out of them all.

He keeps his hopes above his head like an umbrella to shield himself from the downpour, but it's moments like this when the rain becomes torrential. Mingyu can only hold out for so long before it soaks him to the bone and leaves him numb.

It's no surprise when he jumps out of the car the moment they get back to the Shatterdome as though he can't stand another second of being in that cramped space. Mingyu's head is the only thing left visible of him as he squeezes his way through the flow of people coming in, going out, or just standing in between like the rest of their party he left behind. Chan used to try to go after him in the past, stopped only by Wonwoo placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Marshal Kim meets them at the entrance, his eyes sweeping across in a silent headcount. His gaze lingers on Wonwoo for the briefest of seconds before sliding away. Wordlessly, they follow him into the elevator.

"Have faith," he says over the rumble of machinery, absolute in a way that leaves no room for objections. "Keep fighting. It's the only thing we can do, and sometimes we must realise that it is enough. Rest well."

They murmur their affirmatives and bow just as the doors slide open. Wonwoo is the last one out, and he's about to make a beeline for the Kwoon Room before Marshal Kim's voice stops him in his tracks.

"Ranger Jeon. A word, please."

Talking about Mingyu with the Marshal always leaves a sour taste on Wonwoo's tongue. Since Mingyu isn't available to talk to, it's as though being his partner makes Wonwoo an acceptable substitute. But what right does he have to speak for Mingyu? The Drift isn't some kind of psychic connection active between them at all times.

"How is he taking it?" Marshal Kim asks in a low voice. Wonwoo gives a non-committal, one-shouldered shrug.

"Like always. He'll be okay."

"He seemed... particularly distressed today. Choi and Kang, did he know them?"

Wonwoo averts his gaze to his shoes. Mingyu had nagged him into oblivion to polish them this morning.

"They were younger than him. I think that's it."

The Marshal lets out a long, slow exhale through his nose.

Mingyu is somewhat of a volatile ranger. His sync levels with Wonwoo are off the charts and they're easily one of the best pairs in the country, if not the entire Jaeger Program. They'd graduated from the academy with the highest drop-to-kill ratio in their cohort, and yet the first time they drifted together for real, Mingyu fell out of alignment and took Wonwoo with him.

Normally, after that nightmare of a botched first deployment, they would've been one word from the Marshal away from being canned. Shunted aside into K-Science or J-Tech, unfit to be rangers. But they clawed their way back for a second chance. Wonwoo pulled Mingyu up from the edge and straight back into sync and together, they took out the kaiju with almost unbelievable efficiency.

That day, he'd learned that Kim Mingyu is pure lightning in a bottle.

"The next time you drift, everything must go smoothly. I need your word, Ranger Jeon," says Marshal Kim, an urgent note in his voice.

And though they've proven themselves countless times since the day they almost let a kaiju breach the miracle mile off Incheon, it always goes like this.

"I'll be right next to him," Wonwoo responds. "That's all he needs."

The Marshal leaves him there, unsatisfied with his answer but ultimately unable to do anything more about it. When Wonwoo rounds the corner, he finds six pairs of guilty eyes hurriedly darting away. Jeonghan coughs lightly. Soonyoung stumbles as he tries to lean on the wall in a display of mock casualness.

Wonwoo clears his throat. "What are you all standing around for? There's gonna be nothing left in the canteen if we don't hurry. C'mon."

𝄋

Silent Mirage stands waist-deep in the water, so responsive that Wonwoo can almost feel the waves pushing against his legs. A memory blooms in his mind like a drop of ink. The tide at his ankles, wet sand clinging to his feet, his brother’s laughter clear in the air. He wonders just how long it's been since he last went to the beach.

"You sure you’d still want to look at the ocean after this is all over?" Mingyu answers aloud, and Wonwoo huffs out a dry laugh.

"Kaiju signature rising," Jihoon's voice filters through the comms. "Get ready, boys."

49 drops, 49 kills. It could be a million each and it wouldn't even come close to stacking up to the real thing. This is the thrum of their jaeger all around them, Mingyu's breathing in perfect sync with his, his heart pumping furiously as though it's the last time it will ever do so.

They brace. They wait.

Kelaino shatters the surface like a skyscraper from Atlantis, deep grey and scaled and shot through with electric blue. It opens its jaws to shriek its war cry at them, and Wonwoo knows that this is hell itself. There is no escape, no turning back, no hiding under the bed until the kaiju or the jaeger's two pilots lay dead in the water.

He feels Mingyu slipping before it even happens. It's the blue. That vivid, luminescent, kaiju blue.

"Mingyu," he breathes. Whether it's out loud or through the Drift, he can't tell. "Mingyu."

_Look at me._

“Neural connection unstable,” declares the automated voice of Silent’s system.

His vision is stained blue and he's holding Minseo in his arms and she's bleeding and sobbing so hard - _eomma, appa!_ \- she doesn't know what's happening and his heart is slamming against his ribs, but he knows that they will die here if he stops.

“-pilot out of alignment-”

“Ranger Jeon! Focus- my voice, don’t - steady…”

And then Wonwoo is plucked out of Mingyu's aching body and shunted into a memory of his own. He’s watching the news at the train station, live footage of a kaiju tearing up Tokyo Bay and leaving behind a jaeger with its limbs ripped off. His mother was supposed to come home from her business trip that day. Someone calls his name - Mingyu, Jihoon, his brother, his parents - and he doesn't have a single clue who it might be or how to answer them. All he knows is that he's spiralling, spiralling, spiralling.

𝄋

It's a feat worthy of praise, the way that Wonwoo successfully balances the canteen tray in one hand while opening the door to Mingyu's room with the other. Even more so considering that he's got a bowl of cold buckwheat noodles in beef broth precariously close to spilling over as pulls on the handle. The bottle of banana milk does fall over though, and it's a bit of a struggle to stop it from rolling off.

"Mingyu-yah," Wonwoo calls as he nudges the door further open with his foot. "I brought food. You called it yesterday, it's naengmyeon."

What he sees when he peers inside nearly makes him drop the tray. 

Mingyu's sitting on the edge of his bed, tears dripping from his chin and onto his lap. That part was to be expected, but Wonwoo hadn't been prepared for the sight of bare walls. All the photos that Mingyu had put up are gone, thrown haphazardly in a cardboard box next to him.

The cutlery rattles with a delicate little sound, metal on metal, because Wonwoo's hands are beginning to tremble. He crosses the room in quick strides to set the tray down on the desk, only for his heart to stutter behind his ribcage. Mingyu's J-Tech books are gone as well. His sketchbooks and notepads, his favourite pens, the colourful sticky tabs he marks pages with, they're all nowhere to be seen.

Wonwoo's eyes dart around the room in a desperate search for anything _Mingyu_ , anything to make it seem less barren and cold without those pieces of home. His mind screams at him, _he's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving_. He doesn't want to believe it. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, and opens them to find Mingyu looking at him with an expression of pure sorrow.

"What's going on?" Wonwoo asks softly, terrified of the answer. They've gotten pretty good at guessing what's on each other's minds over the years. Right now, he's hopelessly lost without a map in what used to be the familiar territory of Mingyu's head.

"If you took all of these things that proved I was here," Mingyu begins slowly, as though he's choosing each word as the sentence progresses. "If you threw them away, who's to say that I was ever alive?"

Wonwoo sits beside him, the mattress protesting under their combined weight, and Mingyu’s gaze follows him. His eyes are earnest beneath their saltwater sheen.

"I didn't know Beomgyu and Taehyun. How will I remember them? If I put away all my photos and stuff, it looks like no one had ever been in this room. Like I was never here. We're so... _temporary_ , it scares me. I could die tomorrow and be forgotten and maybe it would be like I wasn't even alive-"

"I'd remember you," Wonwoo blurts out. He hadn't meant to interject but now that he's started, he won't be able to stop. "Provided that I didn't die with you, of course. How could I ever forget you? You'll always be here. In the Drift."

That is to say, they're bonded for life. When you see the things that a ranger does, when you look into the eyes of nightmare monsters over and over and you don't know if you'll live past the next hour, your soul begins to ache. It grows jagged and frayed around the edges, exhausted and desolate, but there is another one right beside it. And those frayed edges begin to reach out to each other and knit together in an attempt to heal. It hurts less, makes you feel less like Atlas with the world crushing your spine, if someone is there to shoulder the weight with you. 

"I know. Even if no one else remembered me, you would," Mingyu whispers. As if forgetting him is even within the realm of possibility. As if they don't have pieces of each other engraved into their minds and bodies.

Wonwoo shuffles closer to let Mingyu lean against him, lets a fresh wave of tears soak into his jacket. This is enough to say that they were alive, he muses to himself. Mingyu's warmth and weight on his shoulder, the brush of soft hair against his cheek, even the quiet sound of Mingyu's sniffles. They will exchange experiences of this moment, no doubt, the next time they drift. And so, he thinks with extra conviction that even if the room is bare, this is proof enough for Wonwoo that he and Mingyu have lived.

"I really thought you were leaving. Just for a second."

"What? No, I... I'd never do that to you, hyung. You know I wouldn't." 

Though he knows, the verbal confirmation is finally enough to soothe Wonwoo's anxious heart. 

They end up sharing the naengmyeon. Mingyu feeds Wonwoo every other bite because he knows he wouldn't have eaten much after the memorial. Mingyu tries to give him the ever so precious boiled egg, like a jewel in a crown atop the pile of noodles, but Wonwoo just shakes his head fondly and cuts it in half with the spoon.

After the bowl is empty and their stomachs are full (perhaps not for Mingyu - a good chunk of the Incheon Shatterdome's budget goes towards keeping him fed), they put back all of Mingyu's belongings together. His desk looks far better halfway to collapsing under the weight of all his books, and they spend the rest of the night going through all the photos and reminiscing.

Mingyu and Wonwoo standing tall and proud on their graduation day in 2017. Chan sitting in the med bay and scowling with a tissue stuffed up his nose because his first drift with Soonyoung had given him a major nosebleed. Minkyung and Eunwoo after their first kill, all messy hair and adrenaline-fuelled grins. All eight of them in uniform at last year's PPDC conference in Busan, when Jeonghan and Joshua had earned their medals of excellence.

The smile slowly fades from Wonwoo's face as he picks up a photo of himself and Mingyu posing in front of Lightning Fox, their very own jaeger. Mingyu practically built her himself, with all the schematics and plans he’d brought down to J-Tech and made them promise to incorporate. He'd always come back to Wonwoo's room with a petulant pout on his lips because Seungkwan kicked him out of the labs for the nth time that day.

They look just like Beomgyu and Taehyun in that photo they'd seen at the memorial.

"You were so skinny back then," Mingyu laughs around the plastic straw in his mouth, blissfully oblivious. "Remember what Soonyoung-hyung used to call you? Noodle-Wonnie."

"I never thought I'd hear those cursed words again, and especially not from you, Kim Mingyu."

It feels strange to think of 'back then' as 'the good days'. When the Breach would spit out kaijus every few months instead of every few weeks, when they still had enough time to catch their breath between attacks. Eventually, the kaiju will start coming faster than they can get their jaegers back to full functionality after each fight. There will be no time for memorials, no time to grieve or remember the names of pilots they never met.

But here, now, all that matters to Wonwoo is the sound of Mingyu's laughter, his canine-toothed smile, the drying of his tears. If it means he can remind himself of what it's like to live, he'll try his best to immerse himself wholly in the present.

Together, they choose which photos to stick back on the wall and soon fall asleep sprawled beneath a constellation of memories. Face to face, curled around each other as their chests rise and fall in perfect sync.

𝄋

"Yah. Mingyu. If you're going to stay up 'til two reading again, at least use your lamp. I can't sleep with the light on."

"Sorry, hyung."

Switches are flipped. Pages are turned. A pencil scratches against paper.

"You better not be this much of a workaholic when you're an engineer. Maybe I'll go to Busan and you'll go to Incheon and you'll have no one to make you go to bed-"

"I didn't pick J-Tech."

Wonwoo's eyes snap open in the dim light. He pushes himself into an upright sitting position and stares at the back of Mingyu's head, bent low over his textbooks as always.

"What?"

"The form. I didn't pick J-Tech," Mingyu repeats calmly, continuing to take notes as though nothing's out of the ordinary.

Mingyu, who came all the way to Kodiak from Anyang just to become a Shatterdome engineer. Mingyu, who's been gushing non-stop since day one about how excited he is to work in a real crew. Mingyu, who has wanted to design and build a jaeger with his own hands since he watched Brawler Yukon take down Karloff in 2015, didn't choose J-Tech on yesterday's field specialisation form.

"Why?" is all that Wonwoo can say, completely stunned. If not J-Tech, then what did he pick? It can't possibly be K-Science, Mingyu's too squeamish and he hates it more than anything.

Mingyu finally lifts his eyes from his book at that moment. His lips are curved into a small smile as he turns to meet Wonwoo's gaze.

"You already know why, hyung."

And Wonwoo does. It was a pact signed in blood the moment they matched each other on that first blow in the combat room, the sound of wood against wood ear-splitting and absolute. He's known since he looked Mingyu in the eyes over the staff in his hands and something like electricity zipped down his spine.

_I will go wherever you go, to the ends of the universe and back._

𝄋

"What colour is the Drift for you?" Mingyu asks as he folds his long legs to his chest, resting his chin atop his knees.

Wonwoo's legs stick through the gaps in the catwalk railing and dangle above the hanger. Not quite as high as being in a jaeger, but high enough to make Mingyu whine for Wonwoo to quit sitting like that because just the sight is enough to make him anxious. The ground crew are like ants below them with their routes that never clash, organised for maximum efficiency. Lightning Fox stands across from them, austere and hauntingly ethereal and dripping with saltwater. 

They've just returned from a run so successful, they cleaned up in under half an hour and emerged with barely a scratch. Only one kaiju, a Category-II that was no match for the jaeger and her seasoned pilots, but ahead of schedule. The next attack wasn't due for another week and K-Science has been working non-stop trying to figure out how this could be, what it means if they can no longer make accurate predictions. 

Wonwoo can never quite shake the feeling of stepping back into his own body. The tech for the neural link has developed to be so smooth, so seamless that when he's up there in his drivesuit, it's like he's grown to 73 meters tall himself. Now he feels too small and slow, even though he knows he doesn't need Mingyu controlling his left hemisphere to prop his forearms up on the railing. Still, echoes of Mingyu's thoughts rattle in his head like loose coins.

"Most of the time, it’s orange to me," Mingyu carries on when he doesn't reply right away. "A soft kind, though, like it's always sunset. If a memory is strong enough, it comes out in its own colour. I haven't figured them all out yet."

Whenever they drift and Wonwoo meets memories of himself, they're always coloured a gentle purple at the edges. It's a calm, dreamy shade, soothing like lavender. It's strangely cute to know that Mingyu's mind is painted in pastels. A little splash of brightness in the bleak outlook for the future.

He finally answers, "Mine is blue. This transparent, ice blue that makes it look like everyone's a ghost."

Wonwoo feels brave enough to pull away from the railing and turn to Mingyu then, to look at the reflection of the welding sparks like fireworks in his eyes from where Lightning Fox's crew is patching her up. Mingyu is thinking of the night they spent together after last month's memorial, he's sure of it. It had been the first lilac-tinted memory in the Drift today. 

A familiar weight that fits perfectly against his shoulder, tear stains on his jacket, an overwhelming feeling of warmth.

"Even if we're all alive?" Mingyu asks.

"Even if we're all alive," Wonwoo echoes back.

Just as they had met each other step for step that first time in the academy combat room, they meet in the middle now. A perfect choreography, the way that they tilt their heads ever so slightly, the way that Mingyu's hand settles on top of Wonwoo's. Like wildfire, he's consumed by this sudden urge to get even closer until there isn't a single inch of space between their bodies. Despite that, he pulls away to let the words come tumbling past the seal of their lips, as he's wanted to do for years. 

Wonwoo whispers his confession on his next slow exhale, and Mingyu just presses their foreheads together. 

"I know, hyung, I've always known."

Warm hands cup his face with the utmost gentleness, as though Mingyu has Wonwoo's very soul held in the cradle of his palms. There is room, after all, for something as precious as this to blossom in the midst of wartime. No matter how much Wonwoo had tried to convince himself of the opposite.

He used to tell himself that he was content with the ambiguity hovering over their relationship. If anything were to happen to him, Mingyu would never recover from that kind of devastation. The wreckage would be on the same scale as a major city razed to the ground by a Category-V kaiju.

A pact signed in blood. If Wonwoo goes, Mingyu will follow. And there is nothing he can do, even in death, to repent for that.

But Wonwoo has never been any good at denying himself. He revelled in Mingyu's affectionate touches, let himself fold at the sight of his smile. On nights when Mingyu couldn't sleep and came knocking on Wonwoo's door with puppy dog eyes, not once was he ever turned away. He'd let Mingyu fall into his arms and would gently run his hands through his hair until his breathing grew slow and steady, recounting all of their dreams as a bedtime story. 

He can allow Mingyu that small grace of feeling loved at the end of another hellish day simply because neither of them know when they will die out there in the water. 

Perhaps that is exactly why he decides in this moment to love all the more intensely. 

As though he knows what Wonwoo's thinking, which might not be so far off from the truth, Mingyu looks at him in a way he's never seen before. His eyes are half-lidded, irises dark, his whole body open and turned to Wonwoo like there's a gravitational pull between them. Heat shivers low in Wonwoo's stomach. 

"Why are you still holding back?" 

Just a little longer, until they're alone.

Mingyu's back meets the door and Wonwoo presses their mouths together again and again, more insistently each time, feeling red-hot desire begin to simmer beneath his skin. Mingyu reciprocates with an equal amount of fierceness. Though they've seen every corner of each other's minds, though they know each other's bodies inside and out through the Drift, nothing compares to the physicality of learning by hand for the first time. 

Oh, how they learn that night. Enough to write a full manual about how to make Wonwoo fall apart and put Mingyu back together, which places to touch to have the both of them melting, everything there is to know about taking care of each other in this intimate way. It's Mingyu's turn to confess in the blistering heat of the moment, and though Wonwoo knows, he's always known, he says breathlessly, "Show me, Mingyu." 

This is the evidence of love, imprinted onto bare skin by wandering fingertips and engraved onto the surface of their hearts. Irrevocable, indelible. 

Wonwoo looks at the boy he's been impossibly fond of since Kodiak, now a man he's proud of beyond words. They're sticky with sweat, chests still heaving up and down with their hearts as little sailboats caught in the waves. Mingyu's head is pillowed on his pectoral as he traces tiny circles on the palm of Wonwoo’s hand. His pulse calms down as the minutes pass, only for him to grow restless once more.

Mingyu murmurs in between languid, hot kisses littered across Wonwoo's collarbones, "What would it be like if we had sex while drifting?" 

"Right in the middle of a kaiju attack? Priorities, Ranger Kim."

Mingyu's giggles ripple across his skin, and the sound of it makes Wonwoo feel whole and present and alive.

𝄋

Silent Mirage returns battered but in one piece, much like her shaken pilots. 

Wonwoo's muscles are filled with white noise and his attention keeps jumping like a camera constantly shifting in and out of focus. There's a slight delay between his thoughts and his actions even as autopilot carries him back to the drivesuit room. Perhaps the worst part out of it all is the silence in his mind when the neural bridge is disconnected, leaving him with an excruciating sense of loneliness.

Head swimming, he lets the technicians do their work. Off comes his helmet, the spinal clamp, the armour plating. He's peeled out of the circuitry suit and whatever they're saying about his electromyography readings goes in one ear and right out of the other. No mention of what happened out there at the beginning.

All Wonwoo needs to know is if Mingyu is alright. 

It's not the first time that particular memory has resurfaced, but it's just their goddamned luck that it happened to come up during their first deployment. At the very least, Mingyu hadn't chased it too far when Wonwoo managed to pull him back. He doesn't want to even think about what would've happened if they'd lost total control. 

After decontamination, they're free to go. Not a single word is said as Wonwoo takes Mingyu by the hand, at least not until the door shuts behind them with a heavy, mechanical thump. The news is bound to spread from scandalised mouths to eager ears within seconds.

The fingers of Wonwoo's free hand tap against his thigh. One-two-three-four, two-two-three-

Mingyu pulls him into the tightest hug he's ever received in his life. 

"I'm proud of you," Wonwoo says before the apologies start flowing non-stop, half-muffled by Mingyu's shoulder. "Are you listening? You did well, Mingyu-yah. So well." 

"Hyung, don't. I'm just- I'm glad you're not hurt." 

Two-two-three-four-

A sniffle. A quiet, hitched breath.

"I fucked up. I saw that kaiju and it felt like I got pushed out of a plane and I... I dragged you with me. I fucked up so _badly_." 

"We came back from it. We're still here," Wonwoo whispers as his hand tangles itself in Mingyu's hair. His mind swirls with half-formed thoughts like leaves in the wind - _you are not alone, turn to me, let me carry this burden with you._

They stand there in the hallway for an indeterminate amount of time, fixed on nothing else but the warmth of their bodies, still very much alive. It's the only thing they can do. Not even the sound of approaching footsteps is enough to make them part, and they simply listen to Seungkwan's uncharacteristically sombre voice, "Marshal Kim wants to see both of you."

His footsteps disappear around the corner as quickly as he'd arrived. That's it, then.

"I'm sorry, Wonwoo-hyung. I broke my promise to you," Mingyu murmurs dejectedly. "I know you'll find someone who's a better pilot-" 

"Don't be sorry, Kim Mingyu. Just keep your promise."

Wonwoo draws back slightly to meet Mingyu's bewildered eyes. He feels it now as he had all those months ago, that sensation of pure electricity skittering along his back. An agreement made with just one look. They had chosen each other then. 

"Do you seriously think I'll let you go this easily? We're good together, Mingyu, we've already proven it. If the Marshal cuts you, I'm going too." 

"Hyung-!" Mingyu stutters on a sharp inhale, like he can't believe his ears. Like he knows that he'd do anything for Wonwoo, but the opposite being true is a foreign concept to him. 

"You're the only person I'll ever drift with," is Wonwoo's final, resolute declaration, and he wonders if he'll ever be as brave as he is in this moment again. 

𝄋

Jeonghan arches a perfect eyebrow. 

Wonwoo nods once. 

Mingyu flushes bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Their friends erupt into noise, cheers and playful jeering. Soonyoung ruffles Wonwoo's hair until it's a mess while Seungkwan tries to pry Mingyu's hands away from his face. Finally, finally, finally, a singular exclamation that ricochets around the table. Mingyu peeks through the gaps in his fingers to share a glance with Wonwoo, and for once in the Shatterdome, their joy expands enough to push against the walls and ceiling. 

The changes after that night don't reveal themselves right away. Mingyu is as affectionate as ever, though he's now allowed to let his hands linger. A light pressure at the small of Wonwoo's back as they make their way through the crowd, a slight touch of his arm when Mingyu wants his attention.

Wonwoo doesn't mind at all and cherishes each moment of contact. But for him, it's his eyes that linger. It's one of the most liberating aspects of acknowledging the way they feel about each other. Mingyu is beautiful and bright in a way that draws everyone's gaze. Wonwoo's seen it in action, knows it better than anyone else. Whether Mingyu's sparring in the Kwoon Room, having a heated discussion with Seungkwan over the latest developments in jaeger engineering, or even just sitting right beside Wonwoo, he can look to his heart's content. Mingyu gets shy in the most endearing way whenever he catches Wonwoo staring, though it's clear that he enjoys the attention. 

The next few weeks are quiet. For one wishful moment, Wonwoo might consider calling it peaceful. Mingyu calls it their honeymoon phase, a congratulatory present from the kaijus themselves.

They wake, they train, they sleep. The war clock ticks on, gaining seconds and hours and days. At some point, Wonwoo learns to stop fretting about whether or not the next attack will catch them off guard if they grow complacent, and pours himself into living instead. 

Somehow, which may or may not involve an unfairly beguiling pair of puppy-dog eyes, Mingyu procures a portable grill one night, along with all the ingredients necessary for a restaurant-worthy samgyeopsal spread. The break room soon fills with the mouth-watering smell of grilling meat, and he yelps for someone to open the window before the smoke alarm goes off. Setting down a plate of piping hot, freshly cooked pork belly, he urges them all to dig in first. The scene isn’t truly complete without a copious amount of soju, but alcohol's been off-limits since they became rangers.

Wonwoo takes it upon himself to feed Mingyu while the latter is focused on grilling the rest of the meat, earning himself a ridiculously pleased smile. He pretends not to enjoy it as much as he does. His heart cannot lie though, for it swells with fondness each time Mingyu lets out a hum of satisfaction with every bite.

“What’s so interesting about my face?” Mingyu teases after he catches Wonwoo staring again. Playful this time, not as shy as usual. It must be the atmosphere, full of talk and laughter and far more relaxed than they’ve been in a long time.

“You have ssamjang there,” Wonwoo says, gesturing towards his own mouth, and turns to hide his smile when Mingyu’s tongue darts out to lick the corner of his mouth clean.

As the night settles like a snow globe, it isn’t long until the talk turns from light-hearted conversation to piloting. With four pairs of rangers in one room, it’s inevitable. Though it’s not like they actively avoid the topic, it tends to have the adverse effect of dampening their moods.

"I didn't want to be a pilot, actually," Mingyu confesses, his hand naturally seeking out Wonwoo's. "I wanted to go into J-Tech. Then we found out that Wonwoo-hyung and I were drift compatible like crazy and... I don't know, I guess it felt like walking away if I didn't choose to be a ranger. I never thought I'd be able to let someone else into my head like that." 

"Have you ever regretted it?" Eunwoo asks quietly. 

"Haven't we all?" Minkyung quips back dryly, nudging her partner in the side. 

"It's hard to say," Mingyu starts in a contemplative tone. "There were so many times that I wanted to quit, but then hyung would tell me he was proud of me and I'd feel okay. Being with him taught me how to be braver. For that, I don't regret it at all." 

It's the first time Wonwoo's heard those words from Mingyu's own mouth. He's well aware of them, of course, but something about listening to Mingyu's voice saying them aloud makes them burrow even deeper into his heart and strike him where he's the most tender. Maybe it's the way that Mingyu can put his love into words so easily like that. Wonwoo wonders if he's even aware of it.

Trusting someone is a difficult thing to do, but letting someone else share your mind makes it seem like a walk in the park. Drifting is a completely different entity. It's letting another person know you to a depth that wouldn't be possible in any other situation, to see you in your rawest, purest form. Once you drift with someone, you aren't ever quite the same afterwards. Even if it's only one time and you never cross paths again, you imprint on each other. You learn things that no one else in the world knows. And you do not forget. 

Back in Mingyu's room, Wonwoo kisses him slowly and gently. Warm hands settle on his waist, thumbs brushing over the jut of his hip bones. 

"Even now, you're holding back," Mingyu murmurs against his mouth. Wonwoo, who knows that he's still tentative with his touches, is inclined to agree. 

He acts as if they're living on borrowed time. As if he'll grow a little too greedy while exploring this new dimension of his relationship with Mingyu and the Breach will toss out a Category-V to punish him. It’s a slow process, learning that he's allowed to love and be loved in return. Still, progress is progress. When their lips meet again, Mingyu smiles into the kiss, "That's it, hyung." 

He has earned this, Wonwoo says to himself as he begins to melt in the warmth of Mingyu's body pressed against his. They settle into bed, facing each other as always, and he reaches out to trail his fingertips across Mingyu's cheekbone, then down to the mole that he never misses when peppering kisses on his face. If he were a poet, he would write sonnets about this.

Wonwoo's eyelids grow heavy as red light seeps between his fingers and spills onto their skin. It almost looks like one of Mingyu's Drift memories, except he's never seen one in red before. 

_"Lightning Fox, report to Bay 7. Movement in the Breach detected. Codename Alcyone, Category-III…”_

Out of an all too familiar reflex, they move. 

Two minutes to get their sleepy asses to the bays, seven minutes maximum to get suited up, five minutes on top of that to initiate the neural handshake and prepare to be taken to the drop site. Fourteen minutes they could've spent making out before going to sleep, Mingyu grumbles, and if Wonwoo could reach over to swat him on the arm, he would. 

"Focus, Ranger Kim."

"Got it, Ranger Jeon."

"Comms off if you're going to flirt, please," Jihoon says dryly. There isn't a trace of drowsiness in his voice, even though he'd been the first to grow sleepy towards the end of their dinner. "Approaching drop site, kaiju signature rising."

"Be on guard. Something doesn't feel right about this one," Marshal Kim warns. 

Chan and Soonyoung are in Hurricane Zero, holding the miracle mile while Lightning Fox lands in the water further out. It's strange to think that just half an hour ago, they were all eating pork belly in the break room and now they're ready to charge head-on into battle.

They brace. They wait. Wonwoo keeps a vigilant eye out for movement in the water beneath the rolling waves. His fingers twitch, counting the seconds in fours. He shares a sideways glance with Mingyu and calls out, "LOCCENT, update."

"Kaiju's roughly 27 kilometres from Lightning, but it's stopped for some reason. No, wait, it's- it's turning away? I'm recalculating path prediction..." 

An anxious thought from Mingyu unfolds in Wonwoo's head, _what if LOCCENT's tracking is wrong and it's coming straight at us, it's so dark out, how are we gonna see it-_

_Focus, Mingyu._

He hears Mingyu's steady exhale, feels it in his own chest. The stretch of water before them remains calm. 

"At this speed, looks like it's headed for Hong Kong," Jihoon reports, though his voice is tinted with uncertainty. Marshal Kim instructs him to call Shanghai and Nagasaki as well, and they are not to move until confirmation is received from either Shatterdome. Coming back without a fight? That's a first. 

"Well, shit," Soonyoung pipes up. "Are we really that scary?" 

Sunlight spills out over the water like an egg yolk by the time that Shanghai deploys their own jaegers. Lightning and Hurricane are cleared to return to the Shatterdome, and not a moment too soon, for Mingyu is dangerously close to falling asleep in his rig. Wonwoo sends him a gentle mental prod. 

"Don't close your eyes yet. We've never seen the sunrise in Lightning before." 

Right before his eyes, Mingyu etches this moment into his memory in its original colours. It echoes across Wonwoo's thoughts and back to Mingyu's, a loop in the Drift that means they won't ever be able to forget the image laid out in front of them. It’s still there in the forefront of his mind when they collapse onto Mingyu’s bed in an exhausted heap of limbs. After years of fighting monsters with no end in sight, he never thought he’d see something so beautiful through Lightning’s eyes.

𝄋

"Thanks for today, hyung."

 _You deserve to be taken care of_ , Wonwoo wants to say, but offers only a slight nod instead. 

The mental strain of the Drift is not something to be taken lightly, especially considering how little is known about it. It's driven by memories and emotion instead of tangible information that can be dissected and studied, as humans like to do. There has always been a precarious balance between a pilot's mental health and the demands of war. Drift training had struck all of the cadets particularly hard today.

Wonwoo suspects it's a mixture of various other influences. Homesickness, grief, broken promises, fractured ambitions. Subdued and visibly shaken, they'd all been relieved of their schedules for the rest of the day. Left to lick their wounds in private and prepare to do it all again tomorrow. 

Mingyu and Wonwoo found themselves wandering up to the rooftop, bundled in coats and puffy jackets to ward off the chill. Wonwoo had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a joke about Mingyu looking like a sweet potato, which was probably for the best. Under the stars, they talked about dreams that were swept aside like the dust they'd collected over the years. 

"I wanted to be a lot of things," Wonwoo had said, gazing out over the academy grounds. "A musician, a writer, maybe an actor."

"You'd make a good actor, I think. You've got just the right visuals for it. All the ahjummas would go crazy over you."

Wonwoo, rosy-cheeked from the cold, only ducked his head and pushed lightly against Mingyu's shoulder. 

"What about you?"

Mingyu hummed in contemplation, leaning back on his hands. "If we're talking about when I was a kid, then I guess it changed every week. Oh, professional football player kinda stuck in middle school, after we made it to nationals once." 

"Huh. You and your two left feet? I never would've guessed." 

It was Wonwoo's turn to earn himself a playful shove, and they dissolved into laughter until it was time to head back. They tossed their empty banana milk cartons in the trash as they went, the last two of the pack that Mingyu had brought from Korea.

They're still lying awake in their respective beds now, not quite ready to face tomorrow. They hadn't expected smooth sailing for the rest of their training, of course, but it's one of those low points where thoughts of dropping out and giving up are inevitable. It's designed for this, to break someone down and look at what they're made of at the core, to leave them and see if they can piece themselves back together. Sometimes, a ranger has to be stronger than their own jaeger. 

"Pretend for a second that the Breach never opened, and the kaiju never existed," Mingyu murmurs, voice dripping with sleepiness. "Do you think actor Jeon Wonwoo and professional footballer Kim Mingyu would've met?" 

"I'd like to think that they would have," Wonwoo answers softly. It's perhaps the most honest thing he's said since he left Changwon. 

His eyes have long shut and he's swaying on the precipice of falling asleep by the time that Mingyu's next words come floating to his ears. For a second, he isn't sure if it's reality, a dream, or simply an echo in the Drift. 

"Wonwoo-hyung. I promise you, I'll work hard so I can protect you out there like you always do for me. Whatever happens, wherever we go... I'm just grateful to have met you." 

𝄋

The kaijus stop coming to Incheon. 

Busan too, though they receive more proximity warnings over there. Marshal Kim is in conferences with other Shatterdomes, non-stop discussion from dawn until dusk. At the slightest blip of a kaiju signature, they send their jaegers out to stand in the water like sentinels. They return without a fight each time, without even a scratch to fix up.

Everyone thinks they should be relieved to come home safely, but the lack of confrontation is even more disconcerting than actually facing a kaiju. It’s one thing to see it with your own eyes and another to watch a tiny red blip approach the city, then turn away as if it’s changed its mind. Mingyu is constantly on edge these days and no amount of coaxing from Wonwoo can get him to relax. Eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, he says one night, "It's like they're playing with us."

The idea implies some kind of sentience, and that's something no one is willing or perhaps ready to consider. But Wonwoo knows it too. Shanghai, Kitakyushu, Manila, San Diego. They're all facing the same situation. 

Months come and go. Eventually, the PPDC tells them to stop deploying their jaegers altogether. From the little bubble of their Shatterdome, they watch Category-IIIs and IVs hit Hong Kong, Anchorage, Sydney, Vladivostok. Jaegers win, jaegers fall, and Wonwoo thinks with an awful degree of selfishness that he no longer wants to live like this. Up on the screen, the kaiju is just a collection of pixels ripped straight out of an apocalypse movie and just as harmless.

Mingyu takes him by the hand and leads him out of the break room. "C'mon, hyung. I think they restocked the vending machines with that milk tea you like."

These past few kaiju-free months have been the closest to freedom, to _normalcy_ , that they've tasted in years. They get to celebrate a grand total of five birthdays, with Eunwoo, Wonwoo and Minkyung's coming one after another rapid-fire in July, all without even a glimpse of a kaiju near their shores. December is fast approaching, leaving the world collectively shocked that they’ve made it through another twelve months.

Everyone knows that they'll be lucky to see the new year. Keeping the Shatterdome running without any kaijus to fight is a waste of resources, and when Marshal Kim delivers the news that they're being shut down, no one can say that it comes as a surprise. Murmurs ripple all around the room, glances are shared between concerned eyes. 

Later, all the rangers are called to discuss the burning question: what now? 

"Given the changes in kaiju attack locations and frequencies, the PPDC has decided to funnel their resources into key Shatterdomes," Marshal Kim lays out in a grave voice. "Busan will also be ceasing operations by the first week of January. We aren't the only ones."

The names chase each other in Wonwoo's head. Shanghai, Kitakyushu, Manila, San Diego. 

"Who's going to cover South Korea instead?" Mingyu asks, eyes sharp. 

"Nagasaki, with Hong Kong for backup." 

"So we're all fired, basically," Chan huffs as he folds his arms. 

"Not quite. Our jaegers, along with Busan's, will be relocated to Nagasaki. We want you to come with them." 

For a moment, they're stunned into silence. 

Wonwoo glances around the room. The girls appear to be communicating with their eyes, or perhaps ghost-drifting isn't a myth after all. Jeonghan is murmuring something too low to hear while Joshua shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and electricity crackles between Chan and Soonyoung. Finally, his gaze falls upon Mingyu, who's staring at the hands in his lap as if they don't belong to him. 

Minkyung clears her throat, shares a look with Eunwoo, and says, "May we have some time to think about it?"

"Naturally. I wasn't expecting an immediate answer," Marshal Kim responds. Then, in a display of uncharacteristic vulnerability, he clasps his hands in front of him and hangs his head with a slow exhale. 

"I'm not any more pleased about this than you are. It feels like we're leaving our country defenceless. Even so... the decision is final. Rangers, it was a pleasure to work with you. Thank you for keeping Incheon safe for all these years." 

They bow in response, perhaps for one of the last times, and file out of the Marshal's office in silence. It hangs over them like a rain cloud as they gather somewhat awkwardly in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot. Ever the eldest and most responsible – generally – Jeonghan speaks up first. 

"Whatever you all choose, I will support you," he says lowly as Joshua murmurs his agreement beside him. "Shua and I always felt safe knowing that you had our backs."

"Why does that sound like goodbye, hyung?" Chan laughs, a brave little front that fails to conceal the wobble in his voice. "You're coming to Nagasaki, right? Aren't we all?" 

Words die on tips of tongues, eyes are averted. Chan finds his answer there. 

"I can't believe this," he hisses out through clenched teeth, and turns his back on them as he all but runs off. Looking as though it might tear his heart clean in half, Soonyoung heaves a deep sigh. 

"Don't... don't let him change your decision. He's upset now, but he doesn't want to admit that he understands. He won't blame you for it. I won't either."

He follows after his partner, footsteps fading into the distance. There's nothing left to say. With knowing nods, the three remaining pairs go their separate ways. 

Alone in Wonwoo's room, Mingyu looks at him like he's terrified out of his own skin. It isn't until Wonwoo gently laces their fingers together as they sit on his bed that he relaxes an infinitesimal degree. 

"Tell me we're thinking the same thing," Mingyu whispers.

"It's been a while since we drifted, but I think we are." 

Wonwoo never wanted to be a hero, never had any grandeurs of saving the world. Humanity needed people to step up to the task, so he offered himself. Mingyu never wanted to be a pilot at all. This is the easy way out, handed to them on a silver platter. The little voice in his head that insists they've earned it is drowned out by thousands and thousands of people asking why they're being abandoned.

Maybe in Chan's eyes, they are both cowards. 

"The longer we went without being deployed, the more I started to think that I didn't want to get back in a jaeger at all," Mingyu admits, unlinking their hands to cup Wonwoo's face. "Every moment I spend with you is precious. Believe me, there's no one else I'd ever want to drift with, but _fuck_ , I hope we'll never have to do it again. If it means we're safe for good." 

"Mingyu-yah..." 

"We've spent the last four, almost five years putting ourselves on the line and I- I don't wanna live like that anymore. I want us to have a future, hyung. I know it isn't selfish to want that, but why do I feel so… _guilty_ for it?" 

"We're only two people, Gyu," Wonwoo says softly, guiding him into his arms. "We can't carry all this weight by ourselves. It's okay to let others take over. It's okay."

In his attempt to console Mingyu, he's trying to convince himself as well. 

"Let's go to Nagasaki. We can do J-Tech instead. I know you won't be able to live with quitting completely, so at least we can still help that way." 

"As long as you're there," Mingyu mumbles into the crook of Wonwoo's neck. That's all he needs. 

Hand in hand, they deliver their decision to Marshal Kim a week later. He doesn't look as devastated as expected for someone who's just heard his best pilots say that they're resigning. He just nods, notes it down on his tablet, and smiles. He tells them that they deserve it, and that Nagasaki's jaegers will be in good hands with them. Hearing it from the Marshal makes it a little easier to believe. 

The final outcome goes like this: 

Chan and Soonyoung were the first to tell Marshal Kim that they're continuing their service in Nagasaki, one hundred percent without a doubt. After an earnest discussion, Chan apologises to them for his outburst back when they first heard the news, though he’s still slightly upset to know that they won’t be running together anymore. 

Minkyung and Eunwoo are going on as well after some serious contemplation over the past few days. They're determined to see the war through to the end, whenever it may come. Depending on the Shatterdome's capacity, there's a chance they might be assigned to Hong Kong instead.

Like Mingyu and Wonwoo, Jeonghan and Joshua have chosen to retire from piloting. There are a couple of vacancies for LOCCENT operators in Los Angeles, and Marshal Kim had put in a good word for the two of them. Speaking of that, their non-ranger friends like Jihoon and Seungkwan are still waiting to hear where they'll be reassigned. Fingers crossed for Nagasaki so that their Incheon crew might stay as intact as possible, but there are no guarantees at this stage. 

On the night before the jaegers are scheduled to be transported over to their new home, Wonwoo wakes up alone at two in the morning and knows exactly where Mingyu's gone. Pulling on a sweater and shoes, he shuffles down to the bays. 

"Kim Mingyu!" he calls up to the figure sitting on the catwalk, his voice ricocheting around the high walls. Some of the ground crew startle at the sound of his voice, but he pays them no mind. "Saying goodbye without me?" 

𝄋

“You better not push me into a forklift or something,” Mingyu warns, reduced to shuffling along now that Seungkwan’s hands are blocking his vision. “Wonwoo-hyung, will you tell me if I’m safe?”

“Mm, no promises,” Wonwoo answers airily, making Mingyu whine about everyone ganging up on him for no reason. He keys in the passcode to the jaeger bays while the other two bicker next to him – “Ow, that’s my _eye-_ yah, Boo Seungkwan, you’re doing that on purpose!”

Mingyu falls silent at the whirr of the door opening, perking up in a distinctively puppy-like manner. Excitement is etched into his body language, and Wonwoo takes his hand while Seungkwan ensures that he can’t peek through his fingers. A brand-new jaeger is one hell of a surprise to keep hidden. Wonwoo sees her first, an intimidating silhouette cut from shadows that commands his attention. As his eyes adjust, she bleeds into navy blue with gleaming silver highlights.

He approaches in a daze, resisting the urge to hurry Mingyu’s slow and cautious steps. When they come to a stop, his fingers curl around Mingyu’s almost instinctively. A reassuring squeeze, a swipe of a thumb against the back of his hand.

“Ready?” Wonwoo murmurs before nodding for Seungkwan to lift his hands away. Mingyu’s eyes remain closed for just a moment more. Then, a hitched breath. Judging from the way that he suddenly clings onto Wonwoo’s upper arm, he might have gone weak in the knees.

“Oh. _Oh!_ ”

"She's all yours," Seungkwan declares, holding up a finger to shush Mingyu before he can even say another word. "Yes, she's running on Arbiter Tac-Conn 13."

“Did you put in-”

“ _Yes_ , I installed the I-19s, just like you asked. Begged, actually.”

"And did you-"

" _Yes_ , I upped the number of engine blocks per muscle strand. Everything you wanted, it's all there. Wasn't easy with your demanding ass list, so don't say I never do anything for you, _Mingyu-ssi-_ ow!"

Mingyu immediately tackles Seungkwan into a rib-cracking hug, squealing in pure delight while Wonwoo gazes up at their jaeger. 

Oh, what a wonder she is. 

She looks like she stepped straight out of Mingyu's J-Tech dreams and into her rightful place in the bays. Though she’s the same height as the other jaegers, her mere presence is enough to make it seem like the Shatterdome ceiling can barely contain her. They’d only seen schematics and blueprints up until now, frameworks and individual parts being fine-tuned in the labs. Seungkwan had barred them completely towards the end of assembly, claiming that he wants to be the first to see their pure and unfiltered reactions to the finished jaeger. 

"This moment alone makes all that training worth it," Mingyu says once he’s regained the ability to string a proper sentence together. He sounds as though the breath has been stolen right from his lungs. He begins to walk in a slow circle around their jaeger’s left foot, trailing his fingertips along the metal as he goes. 

"You sound like this is your first time seeing a jaeger. Did Silent mean nothing to you?" Wonwoo jokes, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face.

"Well, Silent was lovely, but..." 

Mingyu emerges around the other side, fascination sparkling in his eyes. He presses his hand flat against the top of the foot as if he wants to leave his handprint there. Wonwoo wonders if, in some far more mundane parallel universe, it might be Mingyu showing off a shiny new car instead of a 73-metre-tall walking weapon.

"She's ours, Wonwoo-hyung. Isn't that just amazing?" 

They will drift with her, slay monsters with her, she will take them out to battle and bring them home. Their beginning and end. Their guardian angel. 

"Got a name in mind yet?" Seungkwan asks, anticipation saturating his voice.

Wonwoo makes eye contact with Mingyu before saying resolutely, "We'll earn the right after our first kill."

And they do exactly that. Baptised in the sea with kaiju blue splattered across her torso, she is named Lightning Fox. 

𝄋

It's a little bit like déjà vu, the way they sit on the catwalk facing Lightning. For which moment in his life, Wonwoo has no definitive answer. Suspended above the bustle of the bays, their worries would rise and dissipate like hot air, if only for an hour or so. Mingyu used to be terrified of coming up, but with Wonwoo’s patient coaxing and a lot of death-grip hand-holding, they’d sit higher and higher each time.

Tonight, the catwalk is level with her conn-pod, and he loves it. Makes it seem as though they’re almost equals. Wonwoo remembers with perfect clarity, they were in line with her heart when he told Mingyu that he loved him. He wonders how it’s possible for a moment that only happened half a year ago to feel like it came from a different lifetime.

Mingyu's still too afraid to let his legs dangle over the edge. Wonwoo's feet still swing in the air, totally unbothered. Maybe they haven't really changed all that much.

"Ready to let her go?" Wonwoo asks in the open air.

To his surprise, Mingyu nods. Lightning had been his darling, his pride and joy. He could've been mistaken for a J-Tech officer instead of a pilot with how often he was in the labs, wanting to be there for every second of construction. She was theirs as much as they were hers. From her permanent fixture in the Drift to the minuscule engraving on her left shoulder, almost tattoo-like. Their names, alongside the day that she was given hers.

"We'll be in charge of her crew. I don't care who I have to fight to make it happen, it has to be us."

"I don't think anyone would say no to that. You know her better than anyone, Mingyu-yah. Except Seungkwan, maybe."

A few moments pass in comfortable silence, spent marvelling at Lightning for just a little longer. Her paint has dulled over the years and the silver streaks don’t quite shine in the same way that they used to. Though her crew would diligently patch her up after each fight, she still bears evidence of the repairs like battle scars. Even so, she is just as beautiful as the day she was when they first saw her.

With a smile playing on his lips, Wonwoo says out of the blue, "Kiss me, Mingyu."

"Here? Now?"

"For old times' sake."

Their beginning and end, but there will be more stories to tell.

They return to Wonwoo’s room, pinky fingers linked, and the bays are empty when they wake sometime in the afternoon.

The new year comes just in time for them to celebrate together before Jeonghan and Joshua jet off to Los Angeles and the rest of them follow their jaegers to Japan. It's a quiet affair, for the Shatterdome is growing emptier by the day. The staff and officers are all heading off to their new assignments or going home after long years of service. The facility itself has already been sold to a private buyer, and God knows what's going to happen to it after that.

Wonwoo packs up all his belongings, mildly fascinated by the way that his entire life apparently fits into one suitcase and a large backpack, before making his way to Mingyu's room. He’s already taken down all his photos, and Wonwoo watches him struggle to pack his luggage in amusement.

“How the hell did I manage to get them all here in the first place?” Mingyu grumbles as he plays an elaborate game of Tetris with his J-Tech books.

“Digital copies exist, Mingyu-yah.”

“But I’ve got all my notes in here! From when I was studying and when I was designing Lightning…”

Ever the sentimental one, Mingyu sets a hand atop a heavy book dedicated entirely to jaeger hydraulics. Wonwoo thinks back to countless evenings cast in the soft yellow glow of a desk lamp, when he would be lulled to sleep by pages turning and the whispers of pencil on paper.

“Let me take some. I still have room in my suitcase.”

When it comes time to leave, Mingyu shuts the door without a second glance. Nestled between his textbooks, he has years of dreams and nightmares alike. The impressions of their footsteps are tucked away underneath his uniform, beside soft exchanges that stretched into restless nights. Perhaps the Shatterdome will forget what their presence felt like, but they will forever carry these invisible signs with them.

* * *

"You know what the worst thing about this place is?"

"Hmm?"

"There's no banana milk."

"Yes, there is."

"Yeah, but it's not _Binggrae_. That's like, our thing. Has been since Kodiak."

"Maybe we need a new thing then. Konjac jelly."

"Wha-? Wonwoo-hyung, does tradition mean nothing to you? I'm gonna cry, seriously, I can't believe this."

As it turns out, Nagasaki is much like Incheon, but there are subtle discrepancies between memories and reality that they have to get used to. It looks like home, feels nothing like it. Familiar hallways are lined with strangers and lead to unexpected destinations.

One week later, seven excruciatingly long days spent settling in and waiting to receive clearance, they meet Lightning’s new pilots. Choi Seungcheol and Choi Hansol were reserves from Busan before the no deployment order was issued, and never had a chance to fight in a jaeger of their own.

"She's so… _wow_ ," Hansol remarks as he looks up at Lightning with a reverent gaze. Any lingering doubts have been washed away like words under the tide, and Wonwoo knows now that they will take good care of her, as she will for them. In his chest, his love is a faint echo, twisting until it resembles longing.

Mingyu’s hand comes up to rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder, his thumb stroking absentmindedly along the curve of it. Reassurance, but is it for Wonwoo or himself?

Wonwoo places his own hand on the small of Mingyu’s back, almost in response. He takes in the expression on Mingyu’s face, the wistfulness in the sweep of his eyelashes as he blinks slowly. He watches it fade like a flower curling in on itself, only to bloom into a gentle fondness.

When Seungcheol and Hansol leave after the briefing, neither Mingyu nor Wonwoo’s eyes trail after the jaeger insignia emblazoned on their backs.

In Nagasaki, they drink pouches of konjac jelly instead of banana milk. In Nagasaki, Wonwoo is the one who ends up being a workaholic instead of Mingyu, who threatens to pick him up from his desk and carry him back to their room if he doesn’t go to sleep before midnight. In Nagasaki, they send their closest friends off to battle instead of walking into the water by their sides. They watch them fight with their breath suspended in their lungs and welcome them back in triumph.

Coming to terms with these differences while finding comfort in things that have remained constant is what eventually reminds Wonwoo of life outside piloting. He and Mingyu still sit on the catwalks during their breaks, sharing a bag of red bean buns that he’d charmed from the canteen staff with a handsome smile. They still fall asleep in the same bed more often than they sleep separately. Wonwoo still sees flashes of pastels in his dreams. Sunset orange, ice blue. Lilac and streaks of silver.

* * *

“Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu calls out one day while they’re working on repairs. Wonwoo, up to his elbows in a muscle strand in Lightning’s left forearm, peers down at Mingyu without even a second of hesitation.

“Hmm? Is something wrong, Gyu?”

His head is tilted slightly as though he’s still choosing his next words. He rubs at his cheek with his fingertips, leaving a dark smudge in their wake. At the thought of cleaning the mark off for him later, Wonwoo’s heart trembles like a butterfly unfolding its wings for the first time. Knowing Mingyu, he’ll be walking around cluelessly for the rest of the day otherwise.

“No, just…” Mingyu trails off, ducking his head as a sudden wave of shyness hits him. He coughs lightly and lifts his eyes to meet Wonwoo’s again. “If we hadn’t met like this, would you still-”

“Of course,” Wonwoo answers easily, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “I liked you even before we knew we were drift compatible. Now focus, Officer Kim. Lightning isn’t going to fix herself.”

He allows himself one blissful moment to revel in Mingyu’s wondrous, slightly dazed expression before returning to his work, a tiny smile tucked away into the curve of his palm. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically a celebration of my love for pacific rim and the oh so very delicious potential to explore emotions and character dynamics through the drift. plus minwon, because Yup. feel free to drop a comment if you want to discuss any plot elements/things i tweaked from canon :>
> 
> even though this fic is incredibly niche (only [checks tag] 15 other works for svt x pacrim ;w;), i had so much fun writing!! whether you're a fellow fan or you just decided to check it out, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading ♡ ♡ ♡ now i must direct you to [kismet or kiss me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471725) by nisakomi and [似曾相識](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399924) by mariya aka absolute masterpieces and two of the best fics i've ever read
> 
> (i'm on [twt](https://twitter.com/lvnarwon)! check it out for updates/snippets of upcoming works •ᴗ•  
> \+ [a tiny little bonus scene](https://twitter.com/lvnarwon/status/1368599103731474435))


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